Invisible
by MonAmour6
Summary: Daryl is falling in love with his student. He's starting to think that she's falling for him, too.
1. Chapter 1

Beth was having a bad day.

She'd had a bad day for a solid fifty nine days. It had to be some kind of world record. Like someone who kept hiccuping for two months straight. It had to do with the fact that it was senior year. Beth was just two months in and already it had felt like a year had passed by.

Between the massive workload and the pressure of applying to college, Beth could barely fall asleep before two in the morning.

But there was a tiny part to Beth's days that she loved. It was a small reprieve from the shitstorm of senior year. It came in the form of her tenth bell class, AP Lit.

A lot of seniors skipped their tenth bell, because why not? It was senior year and there was nothing administration could really do to stop them. But no one ever skipped AP Lit tenth bell, because it was taught by Mr. Daryl Dixon.

Daryl Dixon was a new teacher this year. He'd only been there two months but he was already a popular teacher. Not to mention the senior girls had decided he was the most "fuckable" teacher in the entire school.

AP Lit had a far more relaxed atmosphere than other classes, where the kids could choose their seats. Dixon cussed in class and let them cuss, too. Before a huge exam they would push the desks against the wall, throw down a huge blanket, and have an indoor picnic review session.

Dixon wasn't in class when Beth arrived. She took a seat by her friends and listened to their chatter. The bell rang but Dixon still did not show up. He did this sometimes.

Everyone was talking loudly when suddenly the door slammed shut in Dixon's wake. He had a stack of papers spilling out of his hands.

"About time you showed up, Dixon!" crowed one of the athletes.

"Watch your mouth, Porter, or I'll mark you absent for today," Mr. Dixon threatened good naturedly. There came laughter from around Beth.

Mr. Dixon was dressed today in a long sleeved button up that matched the blue of his eyes. A skinny black tie fell crookedly down his chest. His black pants had chalk dust on them. Dixon was one of the last teachers in the school who still used chalk. He said it preserved the nuance of English, whatever that meant.

"I hope you all brought your A-game today," Dixon barked as he threw the papers down on his cluttered desk. "Because we're taking a pop quiz over Macbeth."

In a normal class, a collected groan would have met Dixon's words.

But because everything about his class was different, everyone sat up straighter and looked excited. A pop quiz could mean they were going on the roof or something eccentric.

"Grab a partner, we're going outside," Dixon said with a crooked smile. Everyone broke into excitement as they partnered up and went out into the hallway.

Beth's hand was grabbed by her friend Erin. "Dixon looks hot today," she sighed after him as he swept by, leading them outside. Beth felt herself stiffen. Her eyes flicked to Daryl, who was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and revealing his tanned forearms. Her cheeks warmed.

"I guess so," she managed.

Erin threw her a disbelieving look. "There's no guessing about it, you moron. Look at him! I would ride that pony all the way to Amsterdam and back," she said dreamily.

"Stop making references to Fault in our Stars," Beth said, exasperated. "And don't talk about him like that, he's... our teacher."

The conversation ended the moment they stepped out into the burning afternoon light. They had fallen behind a bit, and were the last to join everyone outside in the grass behind the school.

"Thank you for joining us, ladies," Dixon said to them wryly, but he only had eyes for Beth. His blue eyes sent a thrill through her. She ducked her head.

"Your pop quiz is to find something out here that symbolically relates to Macbeth. If it's creative enough you'll pass. Fleterson put your hand down, the clouds don't count."

Everyone trilled with laughter before Dixon sent them off. Students were milling around everywhere, looking like little kids on an Easter egg hunt.

The back of their school was surrounded by grass and a small thicket that was more filled with thorns than trees. Erin wanted to go towards the trees where everyone else was, but Beth had something else in mind.

She let Erin go and ambled towards the small road that stretched alongside the school. Her eyes fell on a small pile of torn flesh in the middle of the street. It might have once been a squirrel, judging from the bushy tail. Beth crinkled her nose, thinking. She felt sorry for the little guy. Hopefully she could give his death purpose and connect him to Macbeth.

She felt strangely nervous as she called Dixon over. He'd been in the middle of breaking up a stick fight between two boys.

"Where's your partner?" he smiled when he drew closer.

Beth rolled her eyes and nodded towards Erin. Her friend was too busy flirting with one of the soccer boys to focus on Macbeth. Dixon snorted, shaking his head.

"Alright, Beth. Dazzle me." Dixon folded his arms, giving her a crooked smile. Beth's chest tightened every time he looked at her like that.

She flipped her hair, trying to act like she never swooned over him, and pointed out the dead squirrel. She made a connection about the blood staining the road to the way blood had stained Lady Macbeth's floor. Despite himself, Dixon looked impressed. He shifted from foot to foot, staying a safe distance from her. Beth felt jittery and her armpits were beginning to feel sweaty. Damn nerves.

"Well done, Beth. You definitely get points for thinking outside of the box," he told her, smirking.

"Thanks," she said, suddenly sheepish.

Something abruptly landed on Beth's arm. A small, emerald green grasshopper that chosen her as its landing spot. Before she could react, Dixon reached out and quickly swept the insect off of her arm. Bolts of electricity ran through her, exciting the butterflies in her stomach. Beth was taken aback by her sudden impulse to touch him.

"Well you got the grade you wanted," Dixon said, pressing his mouth into a false smile. As he walked back towards the others, Beth was left with a hollow feeling in her stomach.

_You silly man, _she inwardly sighed. _What do you know about want?_

* * *

Whoever had made advanced calculus a high school course deserved to be beaten up.

Beth was in her room, staring at her calc book as the numbers and words slid off the page. Maggie was home from college this weekend, and had brought back with her an acquired taste for bad country music. She was blasting it upstairs. Beth groaned, running her hands through her hair.

Her concentration officially shattered, Beth closed her books. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palm, exhausted. The red numbers on her alarm clock glowed at 8:47.

"It's not even nine," she muttered to herself. "I'm tired and it's not even nine." She felt like a grumpy eighty two year old woman trapped in an eighteen year old's body.

Her phone started buzzing wildly on her bed. Grateful for the distraction, she swiped it expecting the call to be from one of her friends. When she saw the number, she stopped. It was an unknown number. Her finger hovered above the ignore button before she decided to answer.

"Hello?" she asked uncertainly.

"Beth."

It was Mr. Dixon.

A snake was sliding through her intestines, wrapping itself tightly around her wind pipe so she couldn't breath.

"...Yes?" She did her best to not sound shaky. He had never called her before.

"Beth," he said again, his voice urgent and muffled. "I- I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm at a bar and Erin is here. I think she got someone to buy her beers."

Beth's awkwardness was immediately replaced by concern for her friend. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's right here-"

"BETH!" came Erin's voice in the background. She sounded drunk. "MR. DIXON IS BEING A BUZZKILL."

Beth sighed. She couldn't call Erin's parents to pick her up because they'd be furious. As much as Erin deserved it, Beth couldn't do that to her friend. She also wasn't comfortable with calling one of their friends to pick Erin up, since they probably wouldn't see anything wrong with Erin being drunk.

"Okay where are you?"

Dixon hesitated. "Um, Preston's."

Beth's voice caught in her throat. _Preston's._ Of course, it had to be _that _bar, didn't it? She hadn't been to Preston's since July, since... well, all of this started. She violently shook her head to clear her thoughts. She wasn't going to think about herself right now. Her friend needed help.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," she said, and hung up before Dixon could reply.

* * *

**_A/N: _**Tried typing the majority of this on my phone... will not be making that mistake again!


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **_You _guys! _I'm thrilled that this story has been received so well! Huge thanks to everyone who followed and favorited this story, and to my lovely reviewers!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Erin was sitting on a bench outside of Preston's.

The Preston's sign was made of neon lights, bleeding eery colors across the parking-lot. As Beth approached she thought Erin was alone, but then someone shifted in the shadows. Her heart involuntarily jerked in her chest. Dixon was leaning against the brick, arms folded.

"BETH!" Erin sounded thrilled to see her. "Are you here to join the party?"

Beth had coached herself on the drive to Preston's. Though this marked the first time she had really been to Preston's since July, Beth had been here often in her dreams. Dixon was always there, waiting for her. She had promised herself that she wasn't going to freak out.

She swallowed the tremor in her voice and said, "Hi, Mr. Dixon. Thanks for everything." God, her words were so forced. Being here with him was too much.

As much as he was trying to hide it, Beth could tell he was struggling as well. He looked inhuman under the alternating green and blue lights. "Found her drinking with some guy. She admitted that he bought her drinks."

Beth's awkwardness was briefly forgotten in parental annoyance towards Erin. She folded her arms, glaring daggers down at Erin. "What do you have to say for yourself?" she asked, voice dangerously low.

Erin's excitement died. She was suddenly very interested in her shoes. Her dark hair fell around her face, muffling her words: "I just needed to be drunk. It makes it easier to forget stuff."

This only served to make Beth angrier. "Do you realize how selfish you sound? What if that guy had laced your drink, Erin? What if Mr. Dixon hadn't been here tonight?"

Erin grew very quiet. Her shoulders slumped during a brief moment of sobriety. "I'm sorry. I really am."

She pushed her hair away from her forehead, blowing out a long breath. Well, at least Erin was now in good hands. She'd have to come back to Beth's place, since she was in no state to be around her strict parents.

"Come on, get in the car," Beth sighed, resigned. She was suddenly too tired to be angry. Erin was still drunk, so Beth's words were wasted on her. She didn't have enough strength to parent Erin right now. She could barely stand on her own two feet.

Dixon gently helped Erin get into the back seat of Beth's car. He hadn't said much of anything since Beth showed up. With Erin safely buckled in, her head drooping against the back seat, Dixon snapped the car door shut.

Beth had expected him to leave, but he leaned against the door and looked down at her.

An awkward moment passed between them.

"Thanks again," Beth said. The wheels in her mind were trying desperately to spin, to tell the butterflies in her stomach to start fluttering. But everything felt fried, like a computer that had set on fire. She barely had enough juice left to be properly awkward around him.

"You can't drive home," Dixon said critically, ignoring her thanks. "You can barely walk."

Beth didn't disagree. "Well we can't exactly call a cab." Her voice was laced with sarcasm.

Without warning, Dixon took the keys out of Beth's hand. Maybe she should have fought against him, but the moment he touched her Beth gave in. Her fingers unfurled on their own accord, relinquishing the keys.

"What about your car?"

Dixon cast a look towards Preston's. "My friend drove me here. He can come pick me up."

Beth's father had drilled manners into her. Manners that, in moments like these, urged Beth to be overly thankful and tell Dixon that he didn't need to go out of his way to help her. But she didn't do any of that. She just crumpled slightly in relief and nodded.

Dixon opened the passenger side for her, which struck Beth as a very gentlemanly thing to do. Beth climbed in and buckled. There were a few beats of silence as Dixon walked around the car to the driver's door. Erin was snoring softly in the back seat.

Seeing Dixon in the driver's seat of her small four-door was like watching worlds collide. When he got in and started the car, a string of music peeled from the speakers. Dixon sat very still, looking perplexed as he took in the feminine decorations of her car.

"What?" she asked, self conscious.

Dixon's eyes traveled disparagingly over the flower crown that hung from her rear view mirror. "Pink. So much of it," he managed.

"Will you feel unmanly if you drive this car?"

Dixon pinched a sparkling headband off of his seat, holding it delicately as if it was a poisonous creature, and chucked it into Beth's lap. "Yes," he said in disgust.

"Good," she said snidely. While he adjusted to her car, a small sound erupted from Beth's lips. It took her a moment to realize that she had just giggled.

It was Dixon's turn to be evasive. "What?"

She shook her head. "It's just... weird. You, driving my car, my music playing."

Dixon smiled crookedly at her and threw the car into drive. A small, red man began flashing angrily at them from the dashboard. "Get buckled," Beth said sharply, more out of habit than anything.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, fumbling with the belt and strapping it across his chest.

They pulled out of the parking-lot. Beth watched Preston's fading in the rear view mirror. _Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. _She threw Dixon a glance.

The confusing awkwardness that followed them like a storm cloud was returning. Beth felt it wrapping itself around them, choking out everything else like weeds. The music should have been a buffer to the silence, but somehow it only made it more obvious that they weren't talking.

"Want to play a game?" Beth blurted out.

Dixon swore, startled by her outburst. He shot her a look. "Okay. What... kind of game?"

Was it her imagination, or was there something suggestive about the way he said that? Beth's cheeks warmed at the thought. She cleared her throat, searching her mind for a game they could play. I Spy felt ridiculously out of context at the moment.

"Um, okay. It's this game I play with my friends. You ask a question, and then the other person can either answer it or ask another question."

"This sounds like a girly game," Dixon complained.

"Suck it up. I'll start."

Dixon muttered something that sounded suspiciously like it had been at Beth's expense. She ignored him, deciding that this was infinitely better than sitting in awkward silence. She sat up straighter in her seat.

"What's your favorite color?"

Dixon shook his head. "I knew this would be a girly game."

"Answer the question," Beth said severely, sounding like a police officer who was in the middle of an intense questioning with a drug lord.

He sighed. "Blue. I guess blue is my favorite color."

"Okay, good. Now you ask me a question."

He was quiet for awhile. Beth was beginning to think that he had given up entirely on their game when he broke the silence with a question. "What's your greatest fear?"

Beth made a face. "Zombies, definitely. Anything that has zombies in it, I can't bear to watch."

"Baby."

Against all odds, the game was making things less awkward between them. Beth might have even said that she was _enjoying _herself, which made no sense considering the situation. An unexpected thrill went through her at Dixon's gentle teasing.

"What's your favorite childhood memory?"

The turn signal clunked back and forth as Dixon turned left onto an empty country road. His cautious amusement from earlier was fading. Beth watched it happen like seeing a cloud go over the sun, and wondered what she had said.

"I actually don't have a lot of those," he rumbled, reverting back to his awkwardness.

He was a different person here in the car with her. In the classroom, he was talkative and energized by the students around him. But it was almost as if that was a mask he wore, and when he was with her he took the mask off.

Her thoughts were turning muddled. She was so sleep deprived.

Through the darkness, Beth recognized the familiar trees that lined her street. Her farmhouse was in the distance. She looked over at Dixon, who kept his eyes carefully glued to the road. Her headlights stabbed into the darkness.

"You remember where I live?" she asked softly.

He looked deftly at her. "Course."

Gravel crunched beneath them as Dixon guided her car down the driveway. Maggie's car was gone, and her parents were staying out late for a church event. Erin had chosen the right night to get drunk; the farmhouse was empty, meaning that Beth could avoid uncomfortable, sticky questions about Erin. Not to mention Dixon.

Beth gently roused her friend awake and eased her out of the car. Dixon helped bring her inside. She quietly led them to the living room, where she laid out goose-down blankets and pillows. Erin managed to be ladylike even when drunk; she thanked Beth profusely, and was unconscious before her head hit the pillow.

Dixon went out on the porch to call his friend. She listened to his rough voice giving directions before disappearing into the shadows of her room. She flicked on her lamp, casting everything in a warm yellow glow.

She went over to her mirror, taking off her earrings and laying them out on her dresser. When she looked back in the mirror, Dixon was leaning on her door frame. Her mind recalled the small inscription on the car mirror: _objects in the mirror are closer than they appear._  
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to her.

Beth was transfixed as Dixon slowly approached her, staring at his reflection in the mirror. This was the first time he had been in her room. It was jarring to see him among her girlish things, like her lacey bed and her mother's cross stitch on the wall.

Beth drew in a sharp breath as Dixon came up behind her. Their skin was not quite touching. Little bolts of electricity shocked between them. Beth shivered when she felt his warm breath against her hair.

"It's my turn to ask a question," he said, voice husky.

He was staring into the mirror as well. His eyes wouldn't let go of hers.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Do you regret meeting me at Preston's in July?"

"No." Hesitation. "Do you?"

"No."

Both of them were watching each-other in the way that two players watched a chess board. They were tense, prepared for the next move. Beth closed her eyes, swallowing hard. She couldn't do this. She had very carefully built up a wall over the past few months that prevented her from being hurt. Dixon threatened to knock those walls down.

"You should leave," she said breathlessly.

Dixon had stepped so close, that Beth could feel his words vibrating in his chest through her back. She didn't want him to leave.  
She twisted around carefully, feeling like a ballerina practicing her moves. Facing the real Dixon was an entirely different from facing his reflection. She could feel his hips unconsciously pushing her against the dresser.

Her hand found his chest. Her fingers spread out on the fabric of his shirt. Neither of them knew it she was unconsciously pushing him away, or holding him in place. Her fingers briefly curled into his shirt.

Long, unfamiliar headlights ghosted through Beth's white curtains. She knew without having to look that it was Dixon's friend.  
He exhaled shakily, almost a laugh.

"I have to go," he said ruefully.

She walked quietly with him to the screen door. All of the lamps had been turned off so Erin could sleep. The only source of light came from outside on the porch. Half of Dixon's face was in shadow as he paused to look back at her.

"Goodnight, Beth," he whispered in the darkness.

The way he was looking at her, Beth found herself remembering the first time they kissed. She wondered if he was thinking about it, too.

"Goodnight, Mr. Dixon."

* * *

_**Final A/N:**_ I love when authors create soundtracks for their stories, so here are a few songs I imagined for this chapter!

_Apartment _by Young The Giant- When Beth is pulling into Preston's parking lot and sees Daryl

_Noisy Sunday _by Patrick Watson- As Daryl pulls away and drives Beth and Erin home

_Wait for Me _by Motopony- The scene in Beth's room with Daryl


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** _So needless to say, there's a bit of a controversy over this story! I never expected anyone to read this story, let alone care enough about it to start forming opinions and getting involved. I feel like I should say that obviously the teacher-student relationship is wrong and I am aware of that; if that is a turn off for you as a reader, I entirely understand! But the story is going to evolve and not focus on just _that_ relationship, so just bear with me!

Really an enormous thank you to everyone who has shared their opinions with me and those who have messaged me about it. Even if you don't agree with it, I still appreciate your thoughts and I hope I can tell the story in a way that isn't off-putting.

On that note, have a fabulous Sunday! (Only 13 more Sundays until _The Walking Dead _returns!)

* * *

Beth was good at solving puzzles.

Even when she was a child, her favorite pastime was pouring out a hundred-piece puzzle and slowly connecting the pieces. Maggie was often forced into helping her, just to make sure Beth didn't swallow any of the pieces.

Sometimes it took hours, sometimes days. But the puzzle was always finished and looked beautiful to Beth. She would admire her work and cried when Maggie tore it apart and put it back in its box.

In this case, this puzzle was taking Beth months to figure out.

* * *

Beth woke up early the following morning. The old farmhouse creaked gently beneath her feet as she padded towards the window that opened onto the front porch. The window didn't screech like the screen door did.

While everyone else slept, Beth slipped out the window.

The air was crisp, and fine sprays of red light hinted at the horizon. Beth hadn't slept well last night, because there was a puzzle that she couldn't solve. No matter which way she looked at it, there was one piece that refused to fall into place.

After months of ignoring the problem, Beth was driven to solve it.

The engine of her little car turned over, and she flinched, wondering if it had woken Erin or her parents. She waited but the screen door didn't come flying open. The keys clinked together as Beth guided her car out of the driveway.

Strangely she could still catch whiffs of Dixon in her car. His distinct scent, a mingled spice and cigarette smoke. Everything about last night, from bringing Erin home to the realization that Dixon didn't regret meeting her in July, felt like a distant dream.

It was easier to think of it that way, just as a lucid dream. But something had snapped inside of Beth. Maybe it was seeing Dixon at Preston's last night, or maybe it was the way her chest ached when she caught his comforting scent. But she was finished with this puzzle.

Today, she was putting the last piece in place.

The early light from the sunrise painted everything in a lovely golden hue. There were practically no other cars out on the road. Beth felt remarkably peaceful as she drove. She'd expected to feel fluttery and anxious to the point that her stomach was sickened.

But a serene feeling wrapped itself around her, like the feeling Beth had when looking at the ocean. As she drove, her mind played over the past few months like the spotted film reel of an old movie.

It began in the heart of the summer, on a hot July evening. Erin talked Beth into going to a bar called Preston's, which was only about fifteen minutes away from town. Being well connected, Erin managed to scrape together two fake ID's for them that looked remarkably realistic. If they wore make up and tall shoes, Beth had realized as she looked in the mirror, they almost looked grown up.

By some miracle, or perhaps fate, they got into Preston's. It was packed with people, many of whom Beth had never seen before. Erin started drinking but Beth didn't, as she didn't care for the taste of alcohol. Instead she took a seat at the bar and kept an eye on Erin, who was dancing a ways off.

It was on that night that Beth first met Daryl Dixon.

Unshaven, almost unruly appearance. Long dark hair. Blue eyes that sometimes appeared gray under the light of Preston's. He happened to sit down next to Beth and struck up a conversation.

Unlike the other men at the bar who made her uncomfortable, Dixon was a gentleman. Instead of feeling ogled when he looked at her, Beth felt sweetly flustered. They talked well into the night, to the point that Preston's was clearing out. He made her promise that she'd be back next week, the same time.

It went on like that for a few weeks, into August. Beth would sneak away to Preston's, usually without Erin, and sit at the third seat at the bar. As if on cue, Dixon would materialize and take his normal seat on her left.

She never drank, and though he sipped on a beer he was never drunk. He assumed that she was twenty one, and when he said he was a teacher, Beth assumed it was at any other school in the area.

They only kissed one time, late one night in August.

In retrospect it was a very chaste kiss. They'd been standing outside of Preston's, listening to the crickets and admiring the way the stars glowed like embers in the sky. There was something sleepy and almost dream-like about that night.

He'd turned to her and asked, very quietly, "Beth, can I kiss you?"

Beth had nodded, and he kissed her. It only lasted a few seconds, and Beth was far too nervous to open her mouth. She remembered the way his beard tickled her chin when he kissed her. That kiss rocked Beth to her core despite its innocence, rivaling the explosion of colorful fireworks in the July sky.

Beth never told anyone about Dixon, being that he was a good fifteen years older than her at least. Her reasons to not tell anyone about him only multiplied when she received her senior schedule in late August, and her AP Literature teacher was a man named Daryl Dixon.

The first day, after school, Beth went to his room. She still remembered the pain in his eyes when he said they obviously couldn't see each other, that if he had known she was a senior in high school he wouldn't have kissed her. He'd apologized then and said that he was sorry it happened. Beth agreed with everything he said, but that didn't keep her from crying in her car on the way home.

Beth never breathed a word of her secret to anyone, not even Erin. She once thought that she could survive the rest of the year simply by forgetting about Mr. Dixon. But now, as Beth drove down an achingly familiar road, she realized how wrong she had been.

She'd only seen his place once, when she dropped him off late one night after Preston's. She had never been inside. It was a small place set far back from the road, with a dirt driveway and trees growing like barricades. It was very remote, and looked prettier in the daylight.

His truck was sitting by the cracked face of the garage. Ivy had grown up the white panels of the house, giving it an eery appearance that Beth liked. A mottled brown dog came loping towards her car as she parked and turned off the engine. Its throaty bark echoed through the trees.

"Hey, Scout. Remember me?" she asked gently, running her fingers through the dog's short hair. She'd only met him once, the time she dropped Dixon off. Dixon kept a picture of him in a frame on his desk at school. Thinking of it made Beth smile.

Scout's protective barks turned to a delighted whine the moment he recognized Beth. He pushed his muzzle between her hands, lapping at her fingers with his long, pink tongue. She heard the snap of the screen door and two heavy, black boots came to stand in front of her.

"Hey!" came a rough, vaguely nasal voice.

Scout flattened on his stomach instantly. Beth took a step away from the stranger as he approached. He was large and grizzled, with gray hair that was cropped close to his skull. There was something familiar about his eyes.

He grabbed Beth's arm without warning.

"Who the hell are you, missy?" he snapped. "This here is private property. We don't want no damn girl scout cookies."

He didn't even attempt to hide his scorn. Beth tried to yank out of his grip, but his fingers snaked around her wrist and pulled her towards him. "Let me g- go!" she stammered, shaken up by his rough treatment of her. No one, not even her father, had grabbed her by the wrist this way before.

"She said let _go,_" came a voice.

Dixon was standing in the cracked door frame. She was taken aback by his appearance; gone was the handsome, put-together teacher that she knew at school. He had been replaced by an unkempt man who looked edgily at them through unfocused blue eyes.

"You know this girl scout, baby brother?" the older man taunted. Despite his tone, he released his hold on Beth. She recoiled from him, staring at the angry red finger prints wrapped around her wrist. Those were going to bruise. The words _baby brother _kept running around in her mind like a broken record.

Dixon only had eyes for Beth. He nudged the older man aside and stopped just in front of her, checking her wrist. It was then, as the older man watched them, that Beth put her finger on what was familiar about him: he had the same blue eyes as Dixon.

"Go inside, Merle," Dixon said in a low voice, not bothering to turn around.

Merle's eyes flicked between them. He was seeing too much. "Didn't know you were into jail bait, son."

Dixon was ignoring him, flipping Beth's wrist over in his hands and checking the red marks his brother had left. Faint flickers of electricity shot their way through her arm and pierced her heart like an arrow. She could feel the little details of his hands, the callouses and every little life line.

Beth didn't see Merle go inside, but he eventually disappeared when he couldn't get a rise out of his brother. Scout followed him into the house, and with a snap of the screen door she was alone with Dixon again. Her wrist dropped to her side.

"I'm fine," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"Why are you here, Beth?" She didn't miss the edge to his voice.

She'd recited in her mind what she wanted to tell Dixon. On the car ride over, she had imagined how the scene would play out. So far, her expectations were nothing like reality. She hadn't expected his crazy brother, and now her rehearsed lines had been scattered like houses in a tornado.

She found herself telling him the truth.

"I need to talk to you."

Dixon rose a brow. "There's nothing to talk about."

"After last night-"

"Last night shouldn't have happened," he cut across her, too quickly. "I was a little buzzed and I shouldn't have driven you guys home... it crossed the line."

Beth was quiet. She didn't pretend that his words didn't hurt, but then again she had expected him to say these things. She nodded. "I know, and... I agree. But I just want you to know that I meant what I said. About Preston's."

Dixon shuddered and bowed his head, as if in surrender. He was quiet for a moment.

Blots of golden and scarlet dashed across the horizon, announcing the arrival of the sun. Beth could see the top of the sun now, peeking over the tops of trees. The birds were chirping softly in the trees, creating a symphony.

Maybe it was the peacefulness of the morning, or maybe being close to Dixon again gave her a feeling of security. But like that, Beth's worries were drained from her mind. She wasn't thinking about her parents or about school. She was just happy to be around Dixon.

He peered down at her. His eyes were no longer unfocused. "Do you want to come in for a moment? You should ice that."

There was no double meaning to Dixon's words. He was genuinely concerned for her, which touched Beth. She could tell he felt guilty that Merle had grabbed her so roughly.

"Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

The inside of Dixon's home was somehow the opposite of what Beth had expected. On the one or two occasions that her daydreams had meandered towards imagining Dixon relaxing at home, she had seen a messy bachelor pad. But the reality, she found, was much cleaner and oddly empty.

From what Beth could tell it was all one-floor, and seemed to be divided into a handful of rooms. The room that Dixon brought her into appeared to be a mash up of the living-room, dining-room, and kitchen.

A small fridge was pushed into the corner, its white face empty of magnets or pictures. A small sink, a few cabinets, and a chipped wooden table completed the scene. A small black-and-white television perched on the table, where a little weatherman predicted how morbidly hot it was going to be this afternoon.

Dixon's brother appeared to have disappeared into the eves of the house. Based on their little interaction, Beth wouldn't put it past him to be lurking somewhere and listening. She stood uncertainly by the small table, watching Dixon scoop some ice from the freezer and drop it into a plastic sandwich bag.

"Here you go," he mumbled, holding the bag out to her. Tentatively she took the ice from his fingers, careful not to touch him. The ice was blisteringly cold even through the bag. She wanted to flinch when the ice touched her wrist but under the weight of Dixon's gaze, she forced herself not to.

With the ice having been administered, Dixon suddenly seemed to remember their situation. A heavy silence spanned out between them, broken only by the asinine jingle of a commercial from the TV behind them.

Scout started scratching desperately on the screen door in an attempt to garner pity. Dixon practically leapt at the diversion, seeming as grateful as Beth for something to break the awkwardness between them.

"I told you not to scratch at that door, I've already had to fix the screen twice because of you!" Dixon snapped at Scout as the dog happily bounded into the room. Though Dixon's voice was coarse, it was apparent that there was an extreme amount of fondness towards the dog. Scout didn't seem fooled either, licking cheerfully at Dixon's hands.

"What kind of dog is he?" Beth asked, groping for any kind of dialogue between her and Dixon. It was a shot in the dark but striking up a conversation about Scout was a start. And a start was infinitely better than standing in silence.

"Not sure," Dixon admitted, bending down to fulfill Scout's desire to have his stomach scratched. "He just showed up one morning and he's stuck around ever since. I like to think he's part wolf."

Beth glanced down at Dixon, surprised to catch the smallest of smiles on his face. She cautiously allowed her guard to drop a little bit, relieved to find that joking around was okay right now. "I'd say that's wishful thinking," she replied.

Dixon straightened up to his full height, dusting off the dog hair on his pant's leg. "So what did you want to talk about?"

As if on cue the floorboards in the other room creaked, giving away the other Dixon's location. She folded her arms and silently nodded towards the general direction the sound had come from. Without a word Dixon guided her through the stunted hallway and into the very last room, which was marked by a bright red door.

Beth reached for the handle but out of the corner of her eye she saw Dixon jerk towards the door, propping it open for her. Surprised by his unexpected politeness, Beth awkwardly thanked him and stepped into what she could only assume was Dixon's room.

Last night he'd been in her room, and this morning she was in his. These jarring sequences just seemed to keep happening. If Beth was being honest with herself, dream-like scenes had been popping up in reality ever since Dixon had walked into her life.

Dixon paused to let Scout join them before shutting the door with a quiet click. His room was tiny and smelled vaguely of Dixon. In lieu of a proper bed, there was a ratty mattress on the floor covered in a tangle of blankets.

There was a lone folding table sitting by the window covered with student papers. Books were strewn everywhere, spilling out of the miniature closet and stacked like little skyscrapers along the wall, creating a paper-and-ink city.

"Like my set-up?" Dixon asked pointedly, startling Beth out of her thoughts. She turned around, realizing that she'd just been staring silently around at his room. The obvious lack of belongings was a juxtaposition to Beth's farm, which was filled with furniture and other frivolous belongings.

Memories of her room were surely fresh in Dixon's mind, everything from her expensive lace blankets to the delicate breakable creatures that sat on her shelves. There was a cagey look to Dixon's eyes that hadn't been there before; he thought that Beth was judging the way he lived.

"I like it," she said, somewhat sheepishly. "You could use some bookshelves though," she added in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

Her amiable tone seemed to bring down the bristles on Dixon's back. He looked around at the sea of books as though seeing them for the first time. "You've got a point," he admitted.

Beth took a deep breath. Even though Dixon was the real adult in this situation, it was becoming abundantly clear that he wasn't going to initiate a discussion between them. His unease could have been cut with a knife, which left Beth to her own devices.

In order to find the right words, she'd have to call upon some kind of inner strength that Beth wasn't even sure she had.

"Daryl," she heard herself saying, his name foreign in her mouth. His head snapped towards her, which was why she'd forced herself to use his first name. She hadn't called him Daryl since the night they had kissed.

"I thought that I could handle seeing you every day, but it hasn't been easy. I_ would _have changed classes but you're the only senior AP Lit teacher this year, and I- well I need your class for college credit." Beth paused, trying to ignore the strong feeling that she was on a huge stage spitting out words to an empty amphitheater.

"It just eats me up inside, and the problem is that I can't talk to anyone about it. Nobody even knows about what happened. And the only person I can go to about it is- well, it's you."

Dixon wasn't looking at Beth while she was talking, which wasn't entirely unexpected. In a way his lack of eye contact made it easier to just say what Beth had been bottling up for too long.

It was a little surreal venting her feelings to Dixon, the physical embodiment of what she'd been struggling with since August. Not only that, but the words came so easily from her throat. With other people, Beth almost felt as though her tongue was swollen and her voice box was compromised. But with Dixon, it had always been the opposite. The ice cubes in her throat melted and gave way to the words that danced through her mind.

Talking to him now was as easy as it had been when they met in July, as though they were simply picking up where they left off.

Dixon caught her eye. "It hasn't been easy for me either, Beth."

Those few little words seemed to encapsulate a great deal of heartache. It wasn't even the loss of a physical relationship that they'd been struggling with the most; it had been the loss of a true connection.

In a haze where nobody that Beth knew seemed to truly be radiating with life, Dixon had shined so brightly. For a few weeks, he had been a kind of escape for her. It wasn't until now that Beth had even considered that she'd served the same purpose for him.

"So what do we do to fix it?" Beth asked, her voice shaking the slightest bit.

Dixon's blue eyes were guarded, hiding the brief betrayal of sadness she'd caught only moments before. Yet again Beth was struck by how different he was right now from the funny, put-together teacher he was at school. She wondered if last night had taken more of a toll on him than he'd like to admit.

"It's not fixable, Beth. We just have to forget about it and keep living our lives."

"Even if I wanted to forget about it, I don't think I could," Beth admitted.

"Yeah, well…" Dixon's voice trailed off, gazing distantly at something Beth couldn't comprehend.

For the first time in Beth's life she didn't know what to do. The situation between them was serious, with several stipulations hanging in the air; their relationship posed a threat to not only his job, but to Beth's college career as well as both of their reputations.

It was a small town and word of their kiss- as chaste as it had been- would surely snowball into one hell of a controversy if the wrong person caught wind of it.

Beth could feel herself beginning to crumple like the fine fabric of a cake. She'd been hoping to find the last puzzle piece to this problem by coming to talk to Dixon. Now, if she took a step back to look at this mess, she found that the puzzle had been ripped apart and pieces were strewn everywhere.

"I made a mistake in coming here, didn't I?" she said matter of factly.

Dixon didn't seem to have a response that, so instead he drew closer to Beth and plucked the bag of ice from her hand. It had melted into a watery slush that left moisture behind on her wrist.

Her skin there was numb, but on some level Beth was still able to register the sensation of Dixon's fingers running delicately across her wrist. He only had eyes for her bruises, which weren't as dark as Beth had thought they'd be. She could easily hide them under a handful of bracelets.

Dixon's hands were tan and calloused from the kind of sun and hard work that Beth had never known. Her hand was remarkably small and dainty captured within his, like a little songbird engulfed by the darkness of a crow.

The whole room seemed to shake when someone banged on the red door. Scout's ears pricked up fearfully. "Are you finished boning yet? We got places to be, baby brother."

Dixon's brother's words had the physical impact of a gunshot. Dixon dropped her hand, catapulting himself away from her. He kicked open the bedroom door, giving way to his brother's Cheshire cat smile. "What do you want, Merle?"

Misreading Dixon's shortness as being flustered, Merle only showed more teeth. "My apologies, I'll let you two get back to your sweet lovemaking." Merle seemed to enjoy every sickeningly sweet word that poured from his lips.

Beth, who still stood in the middle of Dixon's room, could feel her cheeks flushing a vehement shade of red. She wouldn't have been surprised if small tongues of fire began sparking from her cheeks.

Filled with resentment towards Merle and abashed humiliation at the hands of the situation, she said in a shaking voice, "I'd better go. Thanks for the ice pack."

"_Beth!_" came Dixon's voice, but other than that he didn't try to stop her, which only furthered the sickened feeling churning in Beth's stomach. As she fled towards her car, her ears rang with Scout's barking and a very different kind of howling, the howling of raucous laughter.

"Don't worry, he'll fuck you at school, sweetheart!" was the last thing she heard before the door slammed after her and she left the Dixon brothers behind for good.

* * *

**A/N: **So this is a real shot in the dark but a year later I've come back to this story. Hopefully there are some people out there who still remember it. A huge thank you to everyone who encouraged me to come back and all the people who kindly messaged me about the story!


	5. Chapter 5

The drive back from Dixon's house had offered Beth just enough time to pull herself together before arriving home. She tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear, pinched her cheeks so that she didn't look so deathly pale, and when her eyes met those of her reflection in the rear-view mirror she told herself that everything was going to be okay.

Beth found Erin where she had left her earlier that morning, fast asleep on the couch. She stirred Erin awake and saw to it that her friend was slipped into a pair of fresh sweatpants and a comfortable T-shirt. Once Erin's stomach was full of sweetened cereal she reluctantly agreed to let Beth drive her home.

The journey to Erin's house gave Beth ample opportunity to lecture her friend about sneaking into the bar and letting a stranger buy her a drink. Erin humored Beth's words and quietly listened, but Beth had a sneaking suspicion that her friend's silence had more to do with the fact that their sugary breakfast had left Erin half comatose.

Once they pulled onto Erin's street, something came out of Erin's mouth that sent Beth's foot accidentally stomping on the accelerator.

"What's going on between you and Mr. Dixon?" her friend asked quietly.

Beth could feel cold water inching up her skin. She'd never been a good actress, and so in lieu of acting dumb she decided honesty was her best route. Or, to be more exact, partial honesty.

"I have a crush on him," Beth admitted, trying to make her voice sound like it caught. As _crush _rolled off of her tongue, Beth felt impossibly silly. There was more depth to how she felt about Dixon and she didn't enjoy downplaying it, but the next few sentences between her and Erin were going to be crucial. If Erin caught on to what had happened with Dixon over the summer, it would be mere hours before the entirety of the town knew.

Ever since they were young, Erin had possessed an aggravating capability of reading people. Even in her sugared-up state Erin's wily ways were razor sharp. Her eyes narrowed in Beth's general direction. "I might have been mildly belligerent last night-"

"Mildly?" Beth scoffed, a feeble attempt to draw Erin away from the topic at hand.

"Yes, Beth, _mildly," _Erin shot back, easily evading Beth's tactic. "But I remember the way Dixon was acting towards you, and the way you two were talking. Strangely reminiscent of the way couples talk and act."

Beth realized that she had wildly underestimated Erin. It was ironic at the moment but this was why Beth was best friends with her; on the surface Erin was just another typical small-town girl living in a pleasantly unremarkable and boiling hot state. She existed firmly on the inner regions of popularity, in comparison to the outer fringes where Beth chose to hover. But beneath that lived an impossibly intelligent girl who noticed more than people gave her credit for.

"So I ask again," Erin continued after Beth's feathers had been significantly ruffled. "What is going on between you and Mr. Dixon?"

Beth's tires bit into the gravel path that led to Erin's little house. She drew to a stop in front of the chipped-paint garage. She was quietly weighing her options. She hadn't whispered a word of her relationship with Dixon to anyone, although _relationship _was a heavy word to describe the delicate balance that had existed between them since the summer.

Suddenly Beth found herself playing in Hershel's garden, soil stuck like gum between her toes as she ran through the flowers and vegetables. Hershel was grabbing weeds and ripping them from the earth. Beth informed him that just cutting the weeds down looked a whole lot easier.

"You see, Beth," Hershel had explained, drawing her onto his dirty pants-leg. "You rip the weed out from the bottom so that you take all of its roots with it. That way, it doesn't regrow."

Beth desperately wanted to tell Erin everything that had transpired ever since Dixon had traipsed into her life, but she couldn't fight the feeling that by doing so she'd just be watering the weeds. By shutting Dixon out completely she was ripping the weeds out, root and all.

"I just got carried away, I guess. I have a pretty big crush on him, and you know how he is, he's a friendly person. If you noticed it then he did too… that's kind of embarrassing. I'd better get it in check."

Beth's words were half-assed and they both knew it, but she couldn't tell Erin the truth. It was painful to keep things from her, and Beth wasn't surprised to see that pain reflected in Erin's eyes. She knew that Beth wasn't telling her everything and it hurt.

"Well, thank you for helping me out last night. I'll see you on Monday." Erin swept herself from Beth's car but paused before shutting the door, seeming to have second thoughts. She leaned down with her hand still curled around Beth's door, her eyes searching. "You can always come to me, Beth, if you ever need anything… You can trust me."

Beth's throat felt thick. "Thank you," she murmured.

Yet another drive home saw Beth's head full of swirling, heavy thoughts. Arriving home, she found a change in the landscape: Maggie's beat-up truck was sleeping in the drive way. It only took a few steps through the front door to find the company of her sister. Maggie had angled the box of cereal towards a glass bowl only for the box to sputter and choke, spitting out a few morsels of granola. Maggie slammed the box down in frustration.

"There's no damn food in this house," she lamented to no one in particular.

"It's because you come home from school and eat everything."

"Don't you have anything better to do than insult me?" Maggie scowled, rooting noisily through the cupboard until fishing out a crumpled box of granola bars. Pleased with her discovery she peeled open a chocolate-chip one and took a victorious bite.

"I have some homework to do, but I'd rather insult you."

In response, a half-eaten granola bar smacked the doorframe a mere inch from Beth's head. Beth tossed it into the garbage can, ignoring Maggie's enduring threat that "next time she wouldn't be so kind towards her target."

When she returned to her homework Beth found a handful of problems she'd started but didn't get to finish Friday night, thanks to a hasty phone call from Dixon. She stared at those unfinished problems. They were like a weird time capsule to a different lifetime, before Dixon had to go and throw a wrench into everything again.

For the first time in recent memory, Beth threw herself into her calculus homework. She carefully solved each problem and went back multiple times to check her work for each problem. When she finished the homework that was due on Monday, she powered through a few more chapters. It wasn't until Beth came up for a gulp of air that she realized she'd done all of her math homework for the next week and a half.

_As it turns out,_ Beth thought wryly to herself, _pining after your English teacher happens to have a spectacular effect on your grades for every other class._

* * *

Daryl's dreams were a tangle of images and emotions that left him blinking blearily at the sharp red numbers of his alarm clock. His skin blossomed with goosebumps from the memory of Beth in his dreamscape, weaving her cold fingers through his. He could still feel Beth's ghost in the room, curled up next to him on his mattress.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, twisting the bones in his back until they uttered a chorus of cracks. Daryl had the distinct feeling that there was something heavy sitting on his chest.

Perhaps some of the great writers that he preached about on a daily basis would have described the weight as a stone, pressing down painfully into Daryl's chest cavity.  
Or maybe a better way to describe it would be to say that Daryl's chest felt heavy because of the heart of stone that hung in his ribcage like an ugly Christmas ornament. He hadn't seen Beth since Saturday, but every detail from that day played in his mind like the battered film reel of an old drama.

What Daryl most clearly remembered was how he felt the moment that Beth had left his house. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to alone with Beth. Simply standing in the same plane of existence as her kicked up the kind of emotions that Daryl knew were dangerous. It felt a little like how the sun existed in the same galaxy as the moon; both exerting so much gravitational pull and force that it became an intoxicating interaction.

Daryl could feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of his skull. He turned his head only to find Scout's muddy brown eyes studying him. Scout's downturned mouth and quiet demeanor gave him a morose appearance, which was out of character for the mutt. Daryl realized that Scout was simply feeding off of his owner's emotions.

Scout clicked towards him and plopped his muzzle into Daryl's lap, uttering a sigh so deep that it seemed to rattle his bones. Daryl gently ran his hands through Scout's fur, thinking that if his eyes reflected even a quarter of Scout's sadness he'd be unable to face his students today.

"Good boy," Daryl murmured, earning a lone tail wag from his companion.

Even though darkness still infected the outside world, it was time for Daryl to face the day. He put Scout outside and found Merle unconscious on the torn leather couch that they'd brought from their old house, one of the only things they had left from their childhood home. Although _home _was too warm a word to describe the pigsty they'd grown up in.

Their father had often slept on that couch, falling into the same drunken slumber that currently encumbered Merle. Daryl peeled a beer bottle from his brother's loose grip, hoping to avoid the bottle falling and giving Merle the kind of abrupt wake up that left him pissed off for hours.

There was still a mouthful of amber liquid swimming around at the bottom of the bottle. Daryl was tempted to wash it down but wryly decided that coming into class with alcohol in his bloodstream would be too much of a cliche.

He liked the shower water to be so hot that it threatened to set his skin on fire. Daryl imagined that the boiling hot water running down his body was washing his sins away and sweeping them down the drain until he was left squeaky clean.

After discovering that Beth was his student, it had taken Daryl months to carefully construct a mask that gave him the appearance of being fine. It wasn't until recently that Daryl reached the point of actually being okay and so the mask had hung quietly in his closet, no longer needed.

But after Friday- Jesus, it felt like a lifetime ago that he'd found Erin at the bar and knew who he had to call. After Friday, Daryl was not okay. His current state introduced the possibility that he'd never _really _been fine, he'd simply been lying to himself. But irregardless, there was no question that after Friday he needed to root around in his closet for that mask.

He tugged on a white collared shirt and a pair of dark, wrinkled pants. Looping the tie around his neck brought about a feeling of dread, probably not unlike the feeling that enveloped a condemned man shortly before he was hung.

Daryl stopped to look at his reflection. The mask felt a bit tight, but its smile was more than enough to hide his true feelings. To everyone he had to face today, they'd think that Mr. Dixon is doing just fine.

_She'll be able to see through your mask,_ the winged demon on his shoulder snarled softly into his ear.

Standing opposite of the demon was a small creature who was also winged, but his voice was much gentler. _Let her see, _he whispered._ Let her know._

* * *

**_A/N: _A huge thank you to every person who favorited, followed, read, and reviewed the last chapter! I wasn't sure what kind of welcome I'd get, or if I would get a welcome at all. But I was taken aback by how positively the last chapter was met, considering that I really just wrote it on a "oh what the hell" kind of whim. So now it seems that I'm going to take this story and keep on building it for as long as you'll have me. **


	6. Chapter 6

Beth woke the following morning with a dull pain at the base of her skull that somehow matched the aching in her chest.

She recognized that her heart as a mass of muscle that hung heavily in her chest for the sole purpose of pumping blood throughout her body. She never romanticized the heart into a two-dimensional ruby red shape that could be easily ripped in half, resulting in the concept of heart break. A heart couldn't be broken.

The pain in her chest could have been easily explained in countless other ways. It could have been the sharp hand of stress or a stitch had found its way into her ribcage. Regardless of the explanation, Beth refused to believe that she was experiencing heart ache. She was a strong person and she'd be damned if she was going to lay in bed sulking because of what had happened with Dixon.

So it was with a great deal of effort that Beth crawled from the warm confines of her bed and started her Monday. She practically ripped the shower handle from its porcelain wall in her violent attempt to wash the entire weekend off of her body. Steam billowed from the hot water, fogging up the mirrors. Beth wiped away the condensation and found herself looking into a pair of determined blue eyes with sadness rimmed around the pupils.

Already the Georgia heat was rearing its ugly head. The pitiful ceiling fan in Beth's room was doing its damnedest to circulate the air but everything still felt sticky to her. The burning water had kept her chest pain at bay but she could already feel it slithering back into her body. Existing on autopilot, she pulled a light tee over her head followed by tugging a pair of jeans over her hips.

Everything that had transpired over the weekend felt as though it belonged in an alternate universe, or maybe an extended dream. But there were little pieces of reality staring Beth in the face that forced her to acknowledge what had happened. The moment she settled into the driver's seat of her car, she was overcome by the lingering scent of Dixon. Pale bruises decorated her arm like dark flowers where Dixon's brother had roughly grabbed her.

Beth hadn't expected to like Dixon this much- not even in terms of a potential relationship, but because of who he was. Even worse was the fact that she sincerely missed him. She missed their verbal sparring and gentle flirting at the bar.

She missed the way his eyes crinkled into genuine amusement when he laughed at something she'd said. In a small town such as hers, Beth often felt crushed under the expectations of her parents and the unflinching reality that she probably would never get the chance to leave Georgia for good. Her deep-rooted sense of family would keep her here, as well as the simple fact that there just wasn't enough money to support her going out-of-state for college.

Dixon had somehow found the chink in Beth's silver armor. He was the unpredictable element that had flown in so suddenly and then disappeared just as quickly. Her satisfaction with a normal life was irrevocably affected by that moment in July where she had unknowingly kissed her teacher.

It had awoken a thirst deep within her for _more _in life. She could date as many skinny, awkward seventeen year old boys as she wanted but it would never amount to the genuine chemistry that she'd discovered with Dixon.

After initially discovering that she'd kissed her teacher, Beth had been overcome with shame- but never regret. Beth now took that and built it into something stronger; something _powerful. _If she'd been taught anything from the surreal weekend she'd had, it was that Dixon hadn't forgotten about the summer either. More than that, an unconscious voice whispered to Beth that he wasn't ready to move on from their connection.

She decided that she wasn't ready to move on, either. She wasn't going to give up on him just yet.

* * *

Despite the fact that Erin had been drinking heavily over the weekend, she appeared clear-eyed and glossy-haired in Dixon's tenth bell. _That girl is a chameleon, _Beth thought wryly.

"Welcome," Erin smirked.

Once again, Beth was struck by how easily people could slip into masks. She distinctly remembered how concerned Erin had been the last time they'd talked. Part of Beth sensed that this was Erin giving her space. She was not naive enough to believe that the topic of Dixon was permanently retired, but for the moment Erin wasn't pursuing answers. And for that Beth was ridiculously grateful.

"Something tells me that you could descend into Hell itself and come back without even a flyaway hair," Beth said sweetly. Erin rolled her eyes.

The chattering reluctantly dropped to a lower volume the moment Dixon swept into the room. Beth had not spotted Dixon a single time all day, but her mind had been constantly occupied with what would happen during tenth bell. She'd wondered if he would appear disheveled or if his charismatic energy would be muted.

However it would appear that Erin wasn't the only one who had slipped on a mask. Dixon was standing straight and dressed handsomely in a charcoal gray vest topped off with a black bowtie. Wisps of dark hair fell across his eyes in that certain way that posed a dastardly threat to every pair of ovaries in the room.

Beth watched Dixon carefully as he unloaded his bag and haphazardly spread papers over his desk. He was smiling, but her stomach was thrown for a loop when she realized he wasn't looking at her side of the room.

"So as I recall," Dixon began without any kind of preamble, "On Friday I assigned scenes four through six from _Macbeth. _I'm assuming that no one read them."

The class tittered. One brave soul rose his hand. "Mr. Dixon, aren't you not supposed to say the name of the play?"

Dixon's eyebrow rose. "Oh, you mean Macbeth? I shouldn't say Macbeth? Is that what you're saying, Newman- not to say the word _Macbeth?_"

"I think I heard you have to knock on wood if you say it," a blonde girl chimed in.

"No you have to run around the room twice," corrected a nerd in the corner.

Dixon laughed and settled himself on the edge of his desk. Beth continued to watch him, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks but not caring if someone noticed. Dixon still had not looked over at her a single time. It was bizarre comparing the upbeat man before her to the heart broken one he'd been only twenty four hours ago.

"You're letting the language have power over you," Dixon told them, crossing his arms. Beth couldn't help but notice the way his button-up sleeves strained over his toned forearms. "That is superstition. It's not real. However when you _think _it's real, then you're giving it power. You are _submitting _to the words."

Dixon paused for effect. Beth scanned the classroom; a few students clicked open their pens and were scribbling notes down. She had to admit to herself that Dixon was a really good teacher. He was young, but he had a way with words that really impacted those around her.

And Dixon had something that could only be seen in really good teachers- sometimes while she watched him teach, he'd get deeply lost in his lesson. The way he spoke of classic literature and its many themes and characters, one might think that they were real living, breathing people. Beth could see him falling under as he spoke of Macbeth.

"Now, I'm sure you all just think I'm rambling on aimlessly. But now I'm about to _blow your minds _and connect the circle. You see- in act three of scene four, what happens to Macbeth?"

"A ghost shows up," said some guy from the back row.

A few kids giggled at his lazy terminology but Dixon pointed at him. "Exactly! A ghost shows up. And not just any ghost. _Banquo. _And what happens? Macbeth starts talking to Banquo's ghost and all of the people at his feast think he's crazy."

"And then his lady starts telling him to stop being a nutcase," inserted a girl from the front row.

"Yes! And I bet _no one _can quote to me what Macbeth says to explain why he's talking to someone that isn't there?" Dixon prompted.

The answer came from the far right side of the classroom, causing several pairs of eyes to turn clockwise. Beth heard her own voice speaking clearly to a very quiet room: "Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends, I have a strange infirmity which is nothing to those that know me."

It was the first time that Dixon looked at her side of the room. His dark eyes collided with Beth's. For a moment the room was deathly quiet, a strange energy crackling in the air between Dixon and Beth. Somehow beneath Beth's decision to speak up was a challenge towards Dixon. She stared unflinchingly back at him.

"And can you explain what that means?" Dixon said, his voice an octave lower.

"Macbeth is trying to tell his friends and those around him to not worry about him. The reason he's acting strangely is because of a disease- but that is a lie. There's much more going on underneath, he just doesn't want to appear weak."

Beth was very aware of the double meaning of her words, and she didn't care that she was calling Dixon out on his actions from yesterday in front of his entire tenth bell class. To everyone else it just sounded like a very in-depth analogy on a line from scene three of Macbeth. But it was clear to Erin- and _especially _Dixon- that Beth was provoking him.

"That is correct," Dixon said after a moment of silence. His eyes wandered over Beth's face, lingering just enough so that his mask quivered. For the briefest of seconds Beth saw a cloud pass over Dixon's expression but before she could even register this, the fake smile was fastened right back into place.

Beth felt a pair of eyes staring into her skull. She turned to find Erin looking at her with wide eyes. After an outburst like that, there would be no telling how incessant Erin's questions were going to be. But Beth wasn't fazed. She was drawn back into the lesson, where she took notes and listened respectfully for the final forty-five minutes of class.

It wasn't until Beth was halfway home that her phone buzzed from a text. She took her eyes off the road for a split second to check who had texted her and very nearly swerved off the road. For the sake of other drivers on the road, Beth pulled off and threw the car into park. She sat there staring at her phone, feeling her fingers tremble as she opened the message.

_Preston's parking-lot. Now.  
_

* * *

**Thank you so much to all of my readers! **And thank you to those who have reviewed/messaged me about this story. Your words mean so much and so I'm going to keep working on this story. I will update soon!


End file.
